


Insert Cheesy Pirate Pun Here

by LoveandScience



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, M/M, Pirate AU, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1665227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveandScience/pseuds/LoveandScience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pirate AU for the 30 day AU challenge. I originally wrote the ending, and then a sweet anon asked for a prequel.</p><p>
-----------------------------
</p>
<p>
The prisoner rolled his eyes when the door closed and he found himself alone. Now, how to set about escaping? Either this boat was going down, being captured, or worse, Magnussen would return and continue his... well it wasn't really torture, per say, it was just gross. Gross physical violations. And the Admiral was sick of being the captive of some <i>pirate</i>, he thought the word with scorn.
</p>
<p>
He struggled with the rope around his hands, but he'd never been one for cunning escapes. That was more his brother's area. He attempted to stand and thought maybe he could break the chair on something, but he just tripped and fell over, humiliating himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insert Cheesy Pirate Pun Here

“Captain Magnussen! We're being boarded!” yelled his first mate when she'd rushed into the room.

He looked up from his prisoner. “Are we?” he grinned, picking up his sword. “Well, I guess I'd better go greet our visitors.” 

The prisoner rolled his eyes when the door closed and he found himself alone. Now, how to set about escaping? Either this boat was going down, being captured, or worse, Magnussen would return and continue his... well it wasn't really torture, per say, it was just gross. Gross physical violations. And the Admiral was sick of being the captive of some _pirate_ , he thought the word with scorn. 

He struggled with the rope around his hands, but he'd never been one for cunning escapes. That was more his brother's area. He attempted to stand and thought maybe he could break the chair on something, but he just tripped and fell over, humiliating himself. 

Right. At least no one saw that. Maybe whoever found him would think a wave had hit and knocked him over, rather than that he'd failed miserably at his only chance to escape. 

Eventually, the door opened with a flourish, letting in the light from the hall which filled the otherwise dimly-lit room. 

The newcomer took one look at the Admiral and laughed. “Looks like you're going down with this ship!” he said, closing the door and leaving again. The pirate strolled up to the top deck and waved down his Captain. “Nothing of interest besides the jewels in his desk,” he informed. “Some captive tied to a bloody chair, but he won't be getting up anytime soon.” 

Captain Lestrade gave his crewman an incredulous look. “Surely you don't intend to leave him to die?” he asked, then shook his head when the man clearly didn't get it. “I'll be right back,” he said, then left in search of the prisoner. 

“Up you go,” he smiled when he'd found the bound man and lifted his chair, righting him. He cut the ropes with an easy slice of his blade, stepping back when the Admiral shot up. “Easy, easy, I'm here to help.” He brandished his weapon. “Anyway, I've got the sword. Now hurry up and get out of here. Head to my ship, because this one's about to be blown apart.” 

Figuring he had no better option, the Admiral complied. 

“Welcome,” Captain Lestrade waved his arms in a gesture of hospitality when they'd boarded his ship. “You may want to get down below. It's going to be a bit messy out here.” 

The Admiral shook his head. He wasn't going in any more closed spaces. Ever. When he got home, he would sleep with the door open. 

“Suit yourself. But at least take cover. It'd be a shame if you were rescued just to die from shrapnel.” 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

The remains of Magnussen's crew and ship became a distant point on the horizon, and the sun had nearly set. The Admiral sat, leaning against the right-side wall of the entrance to the lower decks. The Royal Navy had to be looking for him. He was their leader—surely they hadn't just written him off? Had they heard word of him at all? Would Sherlock help if they blundered around for too long? 

“Hungry?” the Captain's voice pulled the redhead from his nervous musings. The pirate handed him a plate of food. “Figured you might like me to introduce myself properly. Name's Captain Greg Lestrade. Who do I have the pleasure of having aboard my ship?” 

If Lestrade really didn't know, he'd rather keep it that way. Magnussen had wanted secrets about the British fleets, and surely even if this... _Lestrade_ didn't, he'd consider the Admiral someone he could sell. He kept silent, focusing on eating his meal. 

“Look, we're not gonna hurt you,” assured the pirate, putting a reassuring arm on the Admiral's shoulder. “Right now we're on course to Spain to drop off Baly over there,” he pointed to one of the crew, “but after that we'll take you where you'd like. You look like an Englishman, am I right?” 

The Admiral nodded in confirmation. 

“Great, we'll drop you back there. That sound good?” 

Another nod. 

The Captain stood. “It's a lot more comfortable sleeping on a bed, mate. Sure you won't come down?” 

A shrug made Lestrade smile. “Alright. Get some sleep.” 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Lestrade would have said he was impressed had the reasons for the ex-captive's 39-day refusal to move downstairs not worried him so much. He brought the man food just to make sure he didn't starve to death, and fairly often chatted with him about any old thing. Sometimes, Lestrade was rewarded with a small smile, but never a word. 

“Look,” he said one night, “I know it's hard for you to even consider going down there, but you're going to freeze to death if you try and sleep up here tonight. It's getting colder, and it's only sensible. I'll stay with you the whole time. You can even have my bed.” 

The Admiral looked at him, as if trying to read his intentions, and then stood, walking toward the doorway before looking back at Lestrade expectantly. 

Embracing his small victory, Captain Lestrade followed and passed him, leading the Admiral to his quarters. He shut the door behind the former-prisoner, then bowed theatrically while gesturing to his lush mattress and duvet. “For you, Sir,” he grinned, then clapped the man on the back. 

“Where will you sleep?” 

Lestrade's eyes widened, surprised at the man's first words since they'd met. He decided not to make a jibe, lest it keep the redhead from talking ever again. “The floor?” 

“Then you will freeze, and we will have no captain,” the Admiral pointed out. 

“Are you just trying to get me in bed with you? You could just ask,” Lestrade winked, but flopped down on the bed and patted the space next to him. 

Captain Lestrade would bet a good deal of money that the ex-captive was blushing. The Admiral carefully pulled back the sheets and climbed in beside him, though. 

“Come on, tell me your name,” Greg urged, putting his arms gently around the other man. 

Surprised at the action but welcoming it, the redhead scooted his back up against the Captain's chest. “Mycroft,” he said softly, hoping this sentiment wouldn't get him killed. 

“'s a lovely name,” Lestrade purred, kissing Mycroft's neck. 

Mycroft felt an unfamiliar heat pulse through his body, and twisted around until he was facing the other man. His brain muddled by the sensation, the Admiral wasn't sure who moved forward first, but suddenly they'd kissed, and Lestrade was pulling him closer, slipping a leg between his... 

The redhead was torn between bolting and grabbing for more, settling on the latter when the heat overtook him as Lestrade applied just the right friction. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“I'm the Admiral of the British Royal Navy,” Mycroft admitted the next night, when they'd both been sated again. “Or I was. I'm not sure if they've written me off, yet.” 

Lestrade's mouth found his. “Is that what you're hoping to be again when you get back to England?” 

“Don't take me back there,” the Admiral said, suddenly more serious. “If you do, I might have to hunt you down one day. I can't be forced to arrest you.” 

“You'll stay?” Greg asked, hopeful. 

Mycroft nodded. “If you wish it.” 

Lestrade gave his answer to that through a series of very satisfying actions. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“Grab him, John!” Sherlock ordered, struggling on the ground with a pirate. “Get my brother onto our boat!” 

Dr. Watson nodded, maneuvering past his comrades engaged in battle and rushing into the lower decks of the pirate ship in search of the elder Holmes. When he found him and explained the situation, he couldn't help but feel that the man was reluctant to leave, but he didn't have time to ponder it. John got the Admiral back to the British ship, signaling to Sherlock that they were safe. 

“Mycroft, you might want to hold on to this sword,” Watson turned around to offer the weapon, but Mycroft was back across to the pirate ship, blade already in hand. 

In the melee, Mycroft searched for Greg, finding him finishing off an attacker. Both knew at once that they'd have to pretend to be enemies, and they began to mock-fight, keeping an eye out for anyone who dared to come close. 

“Gregory,” the Admiral said urgently, “stay out of English waters. And for God's sake, stay safe.” 

The younger man took a step back, getting one last look, and then ran. “All British crew!” he yelled as he crossed back to his boat. “Retreat now!” His men made their way, one by one, back from the fight, confused as to the order, but obeying nonetheless. 

As his crew returned, they began running around, preparing to sail. 

“Well,” Sherlock stood beside his brother, hands behind his back, “Mummy will be pleased to have you home. I can't say the same for myself.” 

It was with a sinking feeling that Mycroft watched the distance between the two ships grow, knowing that he was on the wrong one. He said nothing in reply, and made his way down to the ship's interior, where he knew he'd get no sleep that night. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"We've got the Captain, Sir," two of Admiral Mycroft Holmes' men thrust the pirate to the ground before him. The thump of his body weight on the wooden boards of the ship indicative of how gently he'd been treated. 

Captain Lestrade looked up, a defiant grin. "Well, we meet again," his eyes gleamed as he spoke. Hands cuffed behind his back, he reminded Mycroft of a freshly-caught fish. 

The Admiral looked down his nose at the dirty man. "Leave us," he waved his men away, then bent down to be face to face with Lestrade. "I thought I told you to stay out of the area." 

The pirate shrugged, still with that stupid smile on his face. "What can I say? I wanted to see you again." 

Holmes rolled his eyes. "Out of all the goldfish," he muttered to himself, trailing off. _Out of all the goldfish in the world, it had to be you, didn't it?_

He wiped a smudge of dirt from Lestrade's cheek before standing back up. He motioned for the Captain to right himself, and the pirate complied, amused and curious as to where this was going. He followed Mycroft back to his own ship, where his crew milled around, waiting to be arrested or killed. 

Mycroft gave a whispered order to one of them, who stared in disbelief and then grinned, rushing off to obey. 

The noise of the British Navy's best boat being blown apart had the Admiral and the pirate crew covering their ears, ducking behind cover from flying debris. The shocked cries of the Englishmen filled the air as Lestrade's crew quickly worked to set sail, hauling ass to get as far away from their captors as possible. 

"I suppose that settles that. Now you won't have to endanger yourself just to see me. I'll be in your bed," said ex-Admiral Holmes before turning and making his way down the steps to Lestrade's quarters. 

Lestrade looked extraordinarily pleased. Surprised, eyes lit with admiration, and very, very pleased. With a wide smile, he shook himself out of his daze and raced after Mycroft.


End file.
